


be a good baby, do what i want

by SlayBelle (theswisswereright)



Series: we're on a quick, sick rampage [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Bitty Death, Bitty abuse, Bullying, Choking, Eye Trauma, Freezing, Gen, Impalement, Other, Sexual Coercion, Skull Fucking, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theswisswereright/pseuds/SlayBelle
Summary: You receive an irritating little package in the mail. His name is Blueberry, and he's going to have a bad time.





	1. pretty when you cry

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with the bitty torture  
> This story is not going to end well. Be prepared for that.

_Huh… I don’t remember ordering anything_ , you thought to yourself. The plain brown box currently on your kitchen counter was about the size of a box of cereal, and weighed almost nothing; shaking it revealed that something small was loose inside. There was no return address, but it was addressed to you. 

Well, it probably wasn’t a bomb, you reasoned. You were no expert, but you thought a bomb would be heavier. You picked up your scissors and slit the tape at the top of the box. The first thing you saw was a bright blue note card inside. The handwriting wasn’t familiar, and it read: “Have fun!”

The second thing you saw was what looked like a doll, curled up at the bottom of the box. You upended the box, and the object came bouncing out onto the counter. For some reason, its mouth was covered with tape, and its hands and legs were both taped together. _Oh, shit_ , you thought, as its eyes lit up as blue as the notecard. _It’s one of those Bitties._ The tiny skeleton creature immediately began struggling against its bonds, and speaking furiously from behind the tape.

You took a second to consider what to do. Why the heck had someone thought you’d want a Bittybones? They were useless little things, about the size of a large rat, and worst of all, they talked. This one looked to be a “Baby Blue” type, which meant it would be incredibly annoying on top of being unsettling to look at. Well, you supposed you couldn’t leave it taped up, and maybe it could tell you what it was doing in your kitchen. You peeled the tape off its mouth, none too gently, but left the bonds around his wrists and ankles because you also didn’t want the little rodent running around freely. Before you could even ask a single question, the bitty was already running its mouth. “Oh! Oh, hello! Are you my new mommy? He told me I was going to my new mommy! Wow, you’re so pretty! My name is Blueberry, what’s—mmph!”

Blueberry found himself abruptly cut off as you placed your finger over his mouth. “Okay, you’re going to stop that or the tape goes back on,” you started. “I am not your mommy, I don’t know who sent you here or why you were in my mailbox, and I do not want to hear your babbling. Got it?” The bitty nodded, eyes wide, and you removed your finger. True to its word, Blueberry was silent. “Good. Now, who is “he,” and why did he send you to me?” 

The bitty took a deep breath, and you prepared for a flood of words. “Weeeeell, I don’t really know! One day I woke up in a cage, and this man told me my name, and that I was going to see Mommy! So that’s you! Mommy, can you untie me?” At this, Blueberry wiggled in his bonds and managed to almost roll himself off the edge of the table. You were getting quite displeased.

“I AM. NOT. YOUR. MOMMY.” You spoke loudly, just on the verge of yelling. Blueberry opened his mouth to try to protest, and, at a loss, you shoved your index finger in his mouth. “Shut UP!” The bitty gargled under the pressure of your digit, and his throat contracted like he was going to choke. Because he was so small, your finger spread his jaws so wide he couldn’t even bite down. _Ahhhh, blessed silence_ , you thought. Blueberry’s body thrashed in an attempt to get away, but you pushed your finger as far in as you could get it, and he stopped moving. Small, wet sobs emitted from the bitty, and blue tear tracks ran from his eyes. Almost thoughtfully, you moved your finger back and forth over his ecto-tongue, fucking his mouth slowly and listening to him cough when you withdrew. “Have fun,” huh? You were beginning to see how that might be true.

Finally, you tired of the slimy texture of Blueberry’s mouth on your finger, and took it out of his mouth. He didn’t talk, but stared up at you in fear, tears sliding down his skeletal face. Ugh, he’d wet himself—the blue stain of excess magic was apparent on his little shorts, and a small puddle spread beneath him on your counter. “Gross,” you commented, and grabbed the scissors to cut the filthy clothes from his body. Underneath, he really was just a tiny skeleton, with a shining blue heart glowing behind his ribs. You left the duct tape intact, picked up the bitty, and walked him over to your sink. You turned on the tap, and thrust Blueberry’s pelvis underneath the cold water to rinse the waste off.

“Ah!” he exclaimed. You probably should have turned on the warm tap, you considered, flipping the bitty over to rinse his backside. “Mommy, it’s—it’s c-cold, please stop!”

God damn it. There he went again, calling you that ridiculous name. “Are you stupid or something?” you inquired, turning off the water and raising Blueberry to eye level. “I’ve told you several times now that I am not your mommy.”

The bitty did not seem to have heard you at all. “Mama, c-can I have some clothes now?” he asked, shivering with the cold.

If there was one thing you hated, it was being ignored. “No,” you said. “In fact, I think you need to cool off for a little while.” Silently pleased that you hadn’t removed the tape, you walked Blueberry over to the other side of the kitchen. Luckily, there was almost nothing in your freezer. You opened the door, and savored the sound of his screeching as the cold air swept over his bare bones. He probably would have tried to cling to your fingers, but his bonds prevented him from doing so. You deposited him unceremoniously on top of a bag of frozen peas, and shut the door. A couple hours in there wouldn’t kill him, right? You had plenty of time to set up somewhere for your new little… pet to live.

 

\---

 

When you came back to the freezer about ninety minutes later, the bitty was where you had left him, supine on top of the vegetables. At first, you worried that he was dead, but then you remembered that monsters turned to dust when they died. Instead, Blueberry was shivering so hard that he almost appeared still, and his blue tears had frozen onto his face. You reached in and removed him from the freezer, cradling him in your hands. Walking over to the counter, you picked up the previously-abandoned scissors and cut the bonds holding his hands and feet. You anticipated that he might try to run away, so you grabbed on to one of his hands and dangled him in the air. “Ow, ow, that hurts!” he yelped, apparently having learned nothing about what you desired from him.

Benevolently, you chose to ignore his mistake, and continued your walk to the living room. You’d dug your old hamster cage out of the attic, lined it with an old blanket, and set up a water dropper on the side.

“Mama, where are we going?” Blueberry asked, and it took everything you had not to clench your fist closed and shatter every one of his tiny little bones. Instead, you opened the cage door, shoved him inside, closed the door, and walked away.


	2. I want my cake and I want to eat it too

You left Blueberry in the cage for a couple days, never looking his way once. He tried to talk to you a couple times, mostly while you were on your couch, but you’d covered the cage with a towel and put your headphones in each time. It didn’t seem he could yell loudly enough for anyone outside to hear, and eventually, he stopped trying.

He took to staring at you through the white-painted cage bars, looking pitiful whenever you happened to glance his way. Sometimes, he drank from the water dropper like a hamster would. When it started getting low, you refilled it; he seemed to have picked one corner of the cage to use as a toilet, and avoided the blue sticky area at all other times.

Each night, when you lay in bed, you heard his whimpering through the open door of your bedroom.

Finally, after a week of blessed quiet, you decided that maybe he’d learned his lesson. For the last two days, he had barely moved from where he had flopped over on the floor of his cage, bare bones gleaming under your ceiling light. You approached the cage at last, bearing a bag of food you’d purchased at the local pet store— _Bitty Biscuits!_ the packaging proclaimed, accompanied by a photo of a grinning Baby Blue, just like your unwelcome guest. Said little irritant raised his head weakly from the blanket at the crinkle of the food bag, and attempted to push himself to his feet, but couldn’t seem to get up. It didn’t smell very appetizing, you thought as you opened the bag, but neither did dog food.

You opened the cage door, dumped a handful of the bitty food on the blanket near Blueberry’s head, and then withdrew and snapped the latch shut. You watched for a full minute as the bitty tried to move himself enough to reach the food, pathetically wriggling and twisting his neck, before intervening and opening the cage again. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you hungry?” you asked, all false sweetness.

Blueberry didn’t speak, either too weak or too afraid, but twitched his head almost imperceptibly. A blue-tinted tear slid from his eye socket and down onto the blanket.

“Well then,” you continued, “you’d better ask me very nicely!” You clasped your hands together and waited.

The bitty’s face crumpled, and it looked like he was about to start sobbing again. His mouth opened and closed like a fish’s, and then a tiny voice issued forth. “…please.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you! What was that?” For effect, you cupped your ear and leaned closer. 

“Please… please feed me… please, M—” and there he caught himself, on the edge of calling you that word again. He gave an inaudible sob and began again. “Please… feed me…” 

“Oh, of course!” you exclaimed, as though you weren’t the reason for his miserable state. You reached into the cage and picked up one of the fingernail-sized kibbles. “Open wide!” You held the piece of food over Blueberry’s mouth, reveling for a moment in how he tried desperately to lift his head and accept the food, before dropping it into his mouth. He chewed a little, barely moving his jaw, and swallowed a small amount of the biscuit. It didn’t go down smoothly, likely because he hadn’t had water in the days he’d been lying on the floor, and you could hear his dry throat clench around the mouthful. You smiled, and dropped in another piece of food. Now his mouth was well and truly full, and his weak jaw movements weren’t really enough to process it.

“Mmmm…” he tried to speak, but you already had another piece of food ready, and began forcing it inside his mouth. “Mmmph!” His jaws were spread wide, dry kibbles crumbling over the edges of his teeth, as you pushed another biscuit inside. This time, to make room, you used your finger to guide some of the food into Blueberry’s throat, and his body seized as he tried to cough out the food choking him. You withdrew your finger, watching the bitty hack and cry.

“Oh, I thought you were hungry!” you said, sweet tone returning to your voice. “That’s fine then, I’ll just take all of this food away!”

When Blueberry regained his breath, spitting crumbled food pellets onto the blanket around him, he began to plead with you fervently. “I’ll eat it, I promise… please, no…” This time, he began stuffing his own face, grabbing the surrounding Bitty Biscuits and cramming them down his own throat, terrified you might starve him again. You watched and waited, unable to suppress a chuckle when he began choking again, this time without any intervention from you. He was covered in wet crumbs of food, face smeared and wet with both saliva and tears. The bitty coughed up a pasty mess of partially-chewed food again, and you decided enough was enough.

“Fine,” you said, “but I want all of it gone in an hour, or we’ll see how you do for another week without food OR water.” You closed the cage door once more, and turned your back. Blueberry sniffled audibly, and then you heard small crunching sounds as the bitty began eating once more.

 When you returned, every single crumb of food was gone, even the ones he’d chewed and spat up before. The bitty himself was hiding under a corner of the blanket, visibly trembling and attempting to make himself small. As you approached, his knees began knocking and he started to tear up again, hiccupping softly. “All gone? There’s a good boy,” you said, and patted the top of the cage. At this, Blueberry stopped crying, and even scooted a little closer to you. _How stupid can these things be_ , you wondered, before deciding you’d seen enough of the little nuisance today. “I’m going to bed,” you announced, more to yourself than to the bitty. You could feel his glowing eye-lights follow you as you left the room.

“Have fun,” the note in Blueberry’s packaging had read. You were, you thought, and there was so much more left to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have one more chapter planned for this, but if you have any ideas for things to do to little Blueberry before the end, please leave a comment below!


	3. oh boy, you're starry eyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a suggestion from SomeoneWhoCares, I hope you like it!   
> I'm mostly planning to still finish this in one more chapter, unless someone has another fun idea for something to do with Blueberry.   
> Comments mean more to me than gold!

Sick of looking at the tiny naked skeleton caged in your living room, you dug the (since cleaned) outfit Blueberry had arrived with out of the junk drawer. He could probably use a washing too, honestly, before you put clean clothes back on him. You filled the sink in your bathroom with lukewarm water, not caring to waste hot water on the bitty.

“Okay, I’m giving you a bath,” you announced to the cage in your room. Blueberry backed up against the far wall of the cage, making small whimpering sounds. “Oh, shut up, you’re filthy and I’m tired of it. If you behave, this won’t even be a problem,” you said, irritated by his behavior.

“But you—” he spoke up, and you held up one finger. Blueberry quieted instantly, having (finally) remembered that you generally preferred him to be silent.

“You talk when I ask you to talk,” you said, realizing you hadn’t really stated the rule before, and reached inside the cage to cup the bitty in your hand. You drew him out and walked toward the bathroom, where you dropped him into the full sink. The water level was about at his shoulders, so you figured he wouldn’t drown or something else idiotic. “Well? Get on with it,” you gestured to the bar of soap near the faucet.

“I don’t…” he trailed off, expecting you to scold him. When you didn’t, but waved a hand expectantly, he continued, “I don’t know how. I’ve never had a bath before.”

You gave a heavy sigh. “Fine,” you said, reaching back toward Blueberry. Without any warning, you picked up the bar of soap in your other hand, and rubbed the entire thing along his front. His ribs and pelvis caught on the bar a few times, and he sputtered as his face went over the smooth surface. “Keep your mouth closed, stupid,” you muttered, and flipped him over to soap up his back. You set down the soap, rinsed your hand, and reached into your medicine cabinet to retrieve a spare toothbrush.

 You were holding Blueberry in your non-dominant hand, so it was easy to use your good hand to begin scrubbing him with the toothbrush. He wriggled a little as you cleaned around his ribs, but quickly stopped when you shot him a glare. You tried to be as businesslike as possible about the whole affair, and the bitty winced and made small sounds of displeasure at your roughness. When you reached his pelvis and scrubbed there, though, Blueberry let out a panting moan. The area you were scrubbing began to grow blue, and… okay, no, he was forming a pussy out of ecto-flesh. “Stop that,” you warned, closing your hand around the soapy skeleton and dunking him into the sink. You shook him around a few times to make sure the soap was gone, and then pulled the gasping bitty out and wrapped him in a hand towel. He was still staring at you and panting, and you wanted to be on the other side of the earth. “No,” you said, pointing at the burrito-ed bitty in your hand like a misbehaving dog. “You will put that away or you will not like the consequences.”

When that didn’t seem sufficient, you applied more pressure from your fist to the toweled bundle that held Blueberry. He began yelping in pain, and you held that pressure for a minute, watching the bluish blush recede from his cheekbones. You unraveled the towel and checked: no more glowing and no more summoned genitals. “That’s better.”

 The bitty was clean, and so were his clothes, but you realized you had yet to clean his cage, and that you should probably do that before putting him back (if only to avoid undoing your work with the bath). “Okay, I am going to leave you with this towel on my desk,” you said, “and you are going to sit still and not touch anything. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, mo—” and there he stopped again.

“Yes, what?”

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything!” Blueberry exclaimed, and you wondered if you’d ever break him of that ridiculous habit. You weren’t his mother, you weren’t even nice to him, and yet he persisted. You shrugged and figured you’d deal with it later, placing the bundle of towel and skeleton on your desktop. All you had up there were your craft supplies and a bunch of pens, so he couldn’t do too much damage. You grabbed the cage and went to the kitchen sink.

Cleaning the cage was vile, but at least whatever magical waste bitties expelled didn’t have much of a smell. The jellylike texture was the worst thing about it. You put the stained blanket in the washer by itself, and replaced it with one of your rattier towels. Then, you found Blueberry’s outfit where you’d left it on the counter, and went back to the living room with both cage and clothes in hand. What you saw was most displeasing. 

The bitty had one of your knitting needles in hand, the kind that were meant for circular knitting and were essentially two short, thick needles connected by plastic cord. He was waving one needle around like it was a sword, jumping all over your desk, and knocking things over. You took a deep breath and said, “Didn’t I tell you not to touch anything?” 

Blueberry jumped in shock, stumbled, and fell to the surface of the desk. You thought he’d just tripped until you heard him yowling. It was incredibly loud for something so small, and your first instinct was to put down the items in your hands and cover your ears. When you walked closer to the desk and actually saw what had happened, it was more interesting than you’d originally imagined.

One of the knitting needles had lodged itself in Blueberry’s right eye socket, and that was the source of his screeching. He seemed quite distressed, even though you knew bitties didn’t actually have eyes, just lights in their eye sockets. His noises were getting on your nerves, so you went over to shut him up, yanking the needle out and tossing it aside. “What are you yelling about?” you asked, observing the little skeleton’s tears and noting with interest that the right eyelight appeared to have gone out.

“It HUUUURTS!” the bitty wailed, more angrily than you thought he had a right to since he did it to himself.

“Does it?” you asked, finally interested in something he had to say. “You don’t have anything in there but light,” you continued. 

Blueberry continued sobbing, but answered, “It… it hurts… I don’t know… why… but it hurts!” 

That wasn’t the most precise response, but you could work with that. “Well, that’s what happens when you don’t listen to me,” you told him, picking him up again, and picking up a craft knife from the cup on your desk with your other hand. The light in his eye appeared to be coming back, and you wondered if you could put it out for good. “Now hold still.”

You traced the edges of his eye socket with the dull side of the knife, and against all odds, Blueberry remained still in your hand. He shook in fear, but didn’t move, possibly more afraid of making you slip than of what you were actually doing. You waved the sharp point of the blade over the socket, drawing little designs and feeling the bitty in your hand tremble, before suddenly stabbing downward with the craft knife until you felt it hit the back of Blueberry’s skull.

The screech that followed was inhuman, tortured out of his nonexistent lungs by what must have been terrible pain. You observed all of this scientifically, wondering again what was causing him such agony if there was nothing actually there. You put the knife down on your desk and reached a curious finger toward the socket. The bitty, still wracked by some torment you couldn’t comprehend, pushed his skeletal hands at your finger to try to stop you, but he was too weak to actually prevent you from doing whatever you wanted with him. You pushed your index finger into the hole, observing the tight fit and wiggling what you could fit inside as much as possible. Blueberry never stopped crying, but you tuned out the stream of “waaaaaaaaa…” pretty well, and drew your digit in and out of his skull, almost gently. He was certainly struggling, but you basically had him pinned by the eye socket, so there wasn’t much he could do.

“What even are you,” you murmured, losing interest in your little game and withdrawing. Blueberry’s eye socket remained dark, and you wondered if you had caused enough trauma to whatever he had in there that it wouldn’t come back. 

“I… I can’t see…” he whimpered, covering the abused hole with his tiny hands. “Why… why did you… you can’t…”

You walked him over to the forgotten cage, and placed him inside. “I can’t believe you haven’t learned by now that I own you,” you said to him, almost conversationally. “If I want to hurt you, I’ll hurt you. If I want to touch you, I’ll touch you. If I want you dead…” and you trailed off here, tossing Blueberry’s outfit into the cage after him. “Well, I’d say you should probably just do what I tell you from now on.”

He looked up at you with one shining eyelight, and then curled into the fetal position on the towel inside his cage. “Why… why…” he whimpered to himself as you placed the cage in its previous position on your coffee table. 

“I’ll tell you a secret, little bitty,” you said with your face close to the bars. Blueberry seemed intrigued, despite everything unkind you’d done to him thus far, and stared upward again.

_“I just love to see you cry.”_


	4. we would dance all night, play our music loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blueberry serenades you awake, making you a little cash. You are subsequently entranced by the promise of more cash, and you start making plans...

Of all the annoying things you could wake up to, on this fine Saturday, you woke up to Blueberry... singing.

  
Or at least, you assumed what he was doing was singing. He was entirely tone-deaf, and his song had no words— it was mostly a sliding scale of “la la la LA LA LA la,” with a few “Blue blue Blueberry,” and “Mommy~” thrown in for seasoning. He didn’t sound inclined to shut up any time soon, so you got out of bed and approached the bitty’s cage in the living room. The bitty seemingly didn’t hear you, as he continued waltzing around his cage with an imaginary partner, caterwauling at ever higher volumes. You couldn’t pass up the chance to go viral— you took out your cell phone, and began recording the pitiful display. You had a mental bet on with yourself about exactly how long you could stand there recording without Blueberry noticing, but you’d managed to get almost three minutes of video (including some particularly sour notes, and an absolutely pathetic attempt at dipping his nonexistent date) before he looked up and visibly flinched.  
  
You decided to speak before he could, shutting off the video recording. “Care to tell me why you’re making this racket at...” you checked your phone screen, “Seven in the morning on a Saturday?”  
  
“Um... uh...” Blueberry fisted his tiny hands in the hem of his shirt.  
  
“That’s right, there’s absolutely no good reason for this crap,” you said crossly, letting your irritation seep into your tone. “I don’t know if you’re really this stupid, or just trying to get on my nerves, but you should _damn_ well know better than to wake me up on my day off.” You accented the curse word with a thump of your fist on the table that held Blueberry’s cage, making the enclosure jump slightly and knocking the bitty off his feet.  
  
“Ummmm... I’m sorry, Mommy! I didn’t mean to— I didn’t think—“ The bitty looked close to tears, but that was nothing new.  
  
“That’s right, you didn’t,” you cut him off. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t capable of thinking, especially because you keep fucking calling me Mommy when I’ve told you not to a thousand times.”  
  
Blueberry started crying in earnest, and you held up a hand to silence his sobbing and make him pay attention. “You’re lucky this time, though, your ridiculous little concert show might actually make me some money.”  
  
“Money?” Ugh, that’s right, these things probably had no concept of money.  
  
“Let’s just say I like money, and people might pay me if I show them the video I took of what you just did, so I won’t punish you this time. But!” and at this you held up one finger, “If you ever, EVER wake me up like that again, you’ll wish you never got sent here in that box. I’m going back to bed.” You turned away and stomped back to your room.  
  
“Um... Good night, Mommy!” Blueberry called, and you rolled your eyes.  
  
As it turned out, Bittybones were just hard-wired to see their caretakers as parental figures, and there was pretty much nothing you could do about Blueberry’s insistence on calling you Mommy. Bitties were hard-wired in several interesting ways, actually, the most important being that they developed a strong bond to their owner within days, and would express love and affection for their particular human(s) no matter what. The lab-created skeleton pets were designed this way so that they would be popular and easy companions, but what it meant for you was that no matter how mean you were to Blueberry, he would only love you for it and want to please you next time.  
  
You would be testing that again with this video, you thought, pulling up YouTube and uploading the short clip with the title “ _Blueberry the Bittybones Sings For You!_ ” You wrote something trite and short in the description about your bitty loving to sing and dance, and how you wanted to show everyone how cute he was, but the important part was the PayPal link and instruction to viewers to send donations and requests for more videos of Blueberry.  
  
You went back to bed, already yawning, and dreamed about quiet places with no yowling skeletons to interrupt your sleep.  
  


* * *

  
  
When you woke up, it was ten in the morning, and your phone screen was covered in YouTube notifications. You blinked away the sleep from your eyes, and began reading some of the comments.  
  
 _“Oh, how sweet~ he’s adorable! I want a bitty too!”_  
  
 _“So cute! I love the Baby Blue type!”_  
  
 _“Aw, he’s trying to dance! Maybe he needs a friend?”_  
  
Another bitty? You shuddered involuntarily at the idea of another irritating skeleton pet. You kept scrolling through the comments.  
  
 _“Wow, I don’t know how you deal with that racket. That’s annoying!”_  
  
Ah, a kindred spirit. You noticed quite a few more positive comments, but also some more negative ones.  
  
 _“I’d be covering his cage like a bird, maybe that would shut him up.”_  
  
 _“Bitties are so stupid! That sounds awful! I would ask for a refund.”_  
  
The most important thing, you mused, was that some people had donated money. The amount was somewhat small, only about $100, but it was money you didn’t have before! Maybe Blueberry should start earning his keep.  
  
Speaking of Blueberry, these review had helped you think of an excellent punishment for him for waking you up. You took your phone with you and walked back into the living room. “Well, Blueberry, the reviews are in,” you said, tapping the bars of his cage to get his attention. “Lots of people have watched your little performance from this morning!”  
  
“Really?” Eyes shining, the bitty grasped the bars of the cage and smiled. You wondered why, for not the first time, Blueberry seemed to think you’d ever have anything good to tell him.  
  
“Oh, yes. Do you want to hear what they have to say?”  
  
Blueberry nodded so hard you thought he’d break his neck. “Please, Mommy!”  
  
“Okay... here’s the first one...” You lifted your phone, pretending to read from the screen. _“Wow, what an annoying voice! I’m surprised you don’t tape his mouth shut!”_ Blueberry’s face fell, and you felt quite smug on the inside. “Oh, that one was pretty mean. Let’s read a different one... _Does he do that all the time? I’d have brought him back to the store by now!”_ Tears had begun to well in the bitty’s eye sockets, much to your satisfaction. “Hmmm... maybe the next one. _Bitties are pretty stupid to begin with, but Blueberry might be the dumbest of all! Who wants to hear that garbage?”_  
  
Blueberry had begun crying for real now, making pathetic snuffling sounds. “I-I’m sorry, Mommy... I guess they didn’t like it...”  
  
“No, I don’t think they did. Maybe you should stop singing forever,” you said, watching the blue-tinted tears fall down his skeletal cheeks. You felt satisfied that you’d made him feel bad enough for his ridiculous noise-making that he’d never do it again. You’d have to get new content for the videos, but at least your sleep would be peaceful.  
  
As you watched Blueberry sob, your phone pinged a new notification— a direct message. You didn’t recognize the sender, but the subject line intrigued you. _Making Money with Your Bitty_?  
  
Well, you were honestly having less and less fun messing with your particular bitty as time went on. You were still paying for his food, as well as wood shavings for his toilet area, and some spare change would absolutely help reset the balance. You opened the message and began to read.  
  
 _Is it time for your Bittybones to start earning his keep? You can make up to $1000 for a custom video starring your very own bitty! Just click here to get started!_  
  
Curious, and extremely intrigued by the promise of money, you clicked the provided link. The website you encountered was slickly designed, easy to navigate, and bore the headline “Micro Magic Studios.” You were somewhat taken aback by the images decorating the site, as they showed explicit images of different types of Bittybones in bondage, in revealing outfits, or posing with sex toys. Bitty porn, then. You’d known it existed, but had never given it much thought.  
  
The text on the page indicated that the company did shoot such videos, but also purchased them from owners who shot them at home. The prices listed were incredibly appealing, starting at $50 for a five-minute heat video, and going all the way to the promised $1000 for... oh my.  
  
You supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised, considering that the lab-created bitties weren’t even legally animals, and thus were not covered by cruelty laws. The $1000 payout was for what Micro Magic called a “lights out video,” and when you clicked the link, it was exactly what you’d thought.  
  
Bitty snuff films. If you killed Blueberry on camera in a tantalizing fashion, that money was as good as yours. You could do so much with that cash, you thought, and be rid of the bitty nuisance. You hadn’t even wanted him in the first place! This was much better than posting “cute” videos and pretending online that you liked the little annoyance. A quick payout, and Blueberry off your hands forever.  
  
You clicked the “contact us” link, and began typing.  
  
 _I’m really looking to send my Baby Blue bitty off with a bang..._  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... next chapter will be "lights out" for little Blueberry! If you have any ideas as to HOW he should go, leave me a comment below (or for any reason).
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. feet don't fail me now, take me to the finish line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blueberry is done and dusted.

“Your food isn’t cheap, Blueberry, and if you do this, it will make me happy,” you explained for the fourth time. You had to restrain yourself from replacing the word “happy” with “money,” but even if you’d slipped, you didn’t think it would make a difference.

“B-but, Mommy, I don’t want people to see me doing that!” The Baby Blue bitty wrung the hem of his shirt and shifted from foot to foot in his cage. A cyan blush glowed on his cheeks, and his face was twisted into what anyone else would call an endearing pout. 

You called it a pain in the ass. You hadn’t wanted the bitty to begin with, and just when you thought you had a good plan to both get rid of him and pay off some bills, he decided to be shy. He hadn’t been shy when he’d gotten horny from you bathing him, and he hadn’t been shy about waking you up at the crack of dawn with his musical antics, but apparently Blueberry drew the line at making what he thought would be a bitty porno. Time to pull out the big guns. “Blueberry, if you don’t do it, I’m not going to be able to keep you,” you sighed, acting like that would be some great tragedy. “It just costs too much, and to be honest, you haven’t been a very good bitty. Now you don’t even want to help me.”

Sure enough, large tears began dripping from the bitty’s eye sockets. “I’m sorry, Mommy, I’ll be good! I’ll make the video!”

“That’s more like it,” you said, making sure to keep your tone sweet, as you wiped away Blueberry’s tears with your thumb. “Let me go turn the camera on.”

You’d chosen to set up a camera focused only on your desk, as well as strapping your GoPro to a baseball cap for more “active” shots. Now, you turned both of these on, and sat down in your desk chair, which you’d pulled up close enough that you could reach Blueberry, but far enough away that your face wouldn’t be in view. You had some supplies set out on the lower shelf of the desk, but you wouldn’t need those right now. You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and then—“Blueberry, take your clothes off.”

The bitty seemed embarrassed, and kept his eyes firmly on the desk surface below his feet as he pulled off his little socks, followed by his bandana, shirt, and shorts. Although he tried to cover his pelvis with his hands, you could see blue magic coalescing there. “Good bitty,” you praised, and the magic glowed more brightly. “Now come here.”

You’d put on gloves for this next part, which was sure to be your least favorite. Blueberry approached you gingerly, trembling slightly, though from embarrassment or excitement you couldn’t say. “Put your arms behind your back and turn around,” you commanded.

 “Why, Mommy?” the bitty asked, annoying as always. You rolled your eyes, then glared at him. “I mean, yes, Mommy!” he yelped, scrambling to comply.

“The nice people who will watch this video want to see you tied up, Blueberry,” you explained, as you knotted navy blue ribbon around his wrists and elbows. When you were through, his arms were quite immobile, and the blue magic you’d seen before had spread to form ecto-flesh over his belly and hips. To the surprise of absolutely no one, he’d chosen to form a pussy. “Good bitty, very good,” you repeated, and were somewhat surprised as a bead of fluid began running down Blueberry’s leg. You guessed he was pretty excited about this, despite his earlier protests. “Now, lay down, okay?”

Blueberry complied, flopping down gracelessly onto his back, hands pinned underneath his body. You grimaced, and lifted the index finger of your dominant hand to rub gently over his pussy. The effect was instant—the bitty moaned loudly and pushed his hips up into your touch. You looked anywhere but down as you continued to roll your fingertip over Blueberry’s vulva, not bothering to try to find his clit, as it would be too small for you to purposely stimulate. The bitty didn’t seem to care, though, and flexed his legs as far as he could to receive a firmer touch. “Oh, _Mommy!_ ” he shouted, much to your chagrin, and began humping your finger deliberately. “Fuck me, ahhhh, _please!_ ”

_That was enough of that, then_ , you thought with relief, and snapped off your gloves to reach under the desk onto the shelf. Blueberry’s eyes blinked open when your touch disappeared, but you swore you could see hearts appear in his sockets when you came back holding a pencil. Without further ado, you shoved the eraser end inside of the bitty’s tiny pussy, and proceeded to fuck it in and out of him mechanically. “Yes, Mommy, I love you, I love you, _fuck me harder!_ ” Blueberry shouted, fucking himself back on the object so furiously that you barely had to move. You watched him detachedly, using your non-dominant hand to reach for the shelf again, where you found the next object by touch alone. 

When you put the flower pot full of sand on top of the desk, Blueberry didn’t even notice, so busy was he with whimpering and moaning. He did notice, however, when you lifted the pencil, bitty and all, and stabbed the sharp end into the sand. “Owwwwwieeee!” the bitty screeched, writhing in pain as his own weight shoved the eraser too deep inside of him.

“Oh, I guess I forgot,” you sighed, “silly me.” You retrieved the box of thumbtacks from its waiting position, and pushed one into each side of the pencil, slightly above where Blueberry’s feet were dangling. You then guided his feet onto the makeshift pegs, since he was too useless to notice them, and pronounced, “Go nuts. I’ll watch.”

By this point, as you’d planned, the bitty was too horny to question it, or even to be really bothered by the initial pain. He tried to be careful, since with his hands tied he could very easily fall off the pegs, but eventually his sexual interest won out. Within seconds, Blueberry was using his legs to frantically drive the pencil eraser inside his cunt, tongue out and drooling. Fluids were also dripping down the pencil, much to your distaste. “Ah, ah, aaaahhhh!” Blueberry exclaimed, fucking himself energetically. “Mommy, I’m gonna cum!” 

That was your cue. You grabbed Blueberry around the torso (wishing you hadn’t taken your gloves off, as he was slimy with his own drool), and lifted him off the pencil to sit on the desktop. “Time to change the camera angle!” you sang out, making sure the bitty was facing away from the flower pot as you quickly flipped the pencil over, digging the blunt eraser end into the dirt, and drove two more thumbtack foot pegs below the sharp end, which was now sticking up. Blueberry was too horny and desperate to notice the swap, and when you placed his feet back on the pegs, he didn’t hesitate to drive the sharpened pencil lead well inside his leaking pussy. 

“AAAAAHHHHH!” There was the scream you’d been anticipating.  Surprisingly, Blueberry had managed to keep his feet on the pegs, and was able to shakily push himself up off of the sharp point. “M-mommy! That hurts! P-please take it away!” he sobbed, balancing precariously on the insteps of his skeletal feet. You noted that something darker blue and more viscous was dripping down the pencil now. Blood? You’d thought bitties didn’t bleed, but maybe trauma to the ecto-flesh caused it to liquefy. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” you said airily, watching Blueberry wobble for a few more seconds. “This is what the people want to see, Blueberry, and I have to show it to them!” 

A fresh wave of tears began flowing down the bitty’s face, and you relished for a moment in his betrayed expression. “Please, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Mommy, please take me down!”

“Are you that stupid?” you asked, almost rhetorically. “Blueberry, the people want to see you die, and they’re paying me a lot of money to make it happen.” At this, the bitty’s eyes went impossibly wide, and he began wriggling his shoulders in an attempt to free his arms. When this was unsuccessful, he turned to pleading with you.

“I’ll be good, I swear! I’ll be a better bitty! I’ll—I’ll find a way to make money! Please don’t k-kill meeee…” Ah, there went the begging. You’d expected it out of a submissive type like the Baby Blue, but you were resolute in your course of action. You watched Blueberry cry and struggle for a few more dispassionate seconds, and then placed your index fingers and thumbs on both thumbtacks, which were currently supporting the bitty’s entire weight.

“I’d say sorry, Blueberry, but you’ve been a pain since day one. If it makes you feel better, you’re really helping me out here! Try to make a good face, okay?” With that, you yanked the pegs out from under his feet.

“Nooooo—” the bitty wailed, but was suddenly cut off. The sharp pencil tip sliced through his ecto-pussy like a hot knife through butter, tunneling through his plump blue belly. The glowing, heart-shaped soul that sat behind Blueberry’s ribs was summarily pierced through, and the point emerged up through the uncovered bone of his clavicle. “Gggghhhh,” Blueberry finished, as the lead finished its journey past his mandible and came to rest against the inside of his skull. The bitty’s body jerked once, twice, and more of the viscous dark substance leaked from his mouth. 

Blueberry gurgled again, went still, and then both of his eyelights faded out.

You left the camera on for a few more moments, and circled the desk so that your hat camera could catch multiple angles. Then you shut off both recording devices, and sat down heavily in the desk chair.

Blueberry’s unmoving body began to disintegrate, drifting down to rest on top of the sand.

No more little annoyance waking you up, no more bitty biscuits, no more nasty wood shavings, you thought. _One thousand dollars_ , you thought. You took a shaky breath, high on adrenaline, and got up to carry the flower pot to the trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to any and all of my readers who have followed this little story to the end. Please feel free to send me suggestions here or at my tumblr (slaybellebittyhell). Each and every comment is truly appreciated.


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